


The One at the Overlook Hotel

by random_writer



Category: Supernatural, The Shining (1980), The Shining - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-23 07:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_writer/pseuds/random_writer
Summary: The Overlook Hotel loomed over their heads like a wave about to crash. Dean shivered, pulling his leather jacket tightly over his shoulders as he slammed the door to the Impala. If it weren’t for Sam’s insistence that they take this job, he wouldn’t hesitate to get into Baby and never look back.He was in no mood for a hunt, and he had a bad feeling about this place...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters (from Supernatural or The Shining) and claim no financial benefit from this fic. 
> 
> Note: I have finished writing, but will post it chapter by chapter so that I can edit a little over the next few days. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. ;)

The Overlook Hotel loomed over their heads like a wave about to crash. Its modern exterior felt out of place in the isolated corner of the mountains, and the luscious green gardens dusted lightly with snow seemed almost impossible in the unforgiving environment. Dean shivered, pulling his leather jacket tightly over his shoulders as he slammed the door to the Impala. If it weren’t for Sam’s insistence that they take this job, he wouldn’t hesitate to get into Baby and never look back. He was in no mood for a hunt, and he had a bad feeling about this place.

They were miles away from any form of society. Dean vaguely recalled driving past a supply store as they had travelled along winding cliff-side roads, but that was hours ago and the windows had been boarded shut. The only way they could have been more isolated was if they were on Mars.

“Think fast.” Sam said as he tossed Dean’s bag full of hunting supplies over Baby’s roof. Dean caught the bag and shrugged it over his right shoulder. Sam’s voice seemed jarring in the absolute silence of the mountains.

“You still think this is a good idea?” Dean asked as he warily eyeballed a pair of topiary lions guarding the entrance to the hotel. The driveway behind them was littered with similar, freakishly realistic animals carved masterfully from bushes and trees, but the lions were by far the most unnerving. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if they blinked and released a mighty roar.

“Sure. Holiday at the Overlook Hotel, what could possibly go wrong?” Sam said as he dragged his bag over his shoulder and slammed the car door. They approached the hotels wide double doors to find a little brass key waiting for them in the lock. The brothers shared a meaningful glance. Dean pulled out his shotgun, filled to the brim with salt rounds, as Sam reached to turn the key.

The heavy wooden doors groaned as the locks clicked audibly into place. The elaborately carved door handle felt surprisingly warm under Sam’s fingers as it turned. His shoulder was almost pulled from its socket when the door was thrust open, dragging him into the hotel atrium.

“Sam!” Dean cried out, only for a wave of hot air to force him two steps back from the hotel. “Sam?”

Silence. Then, “I’m alright.”

Dean stormed the doorway, his body tense and ready for battle as he raised his shotgun to his shoulder. He was surprised to find himself in a beautiful atrium with polished marble floors and a wide spiral staircase which led to a second floor. The room was lit by an eerie yellow glow which originated from a massive crystal chandelier hanging precariously above their heads. As the adrenaline wore off, Dean found himself sweating. He noted the dramatic temperature difference before he dropped his shotgun and began dragging off his outer layers.

Sam rubbed his aching shoulder, a confused frown lining his brow. His eyes fell on a large fireplace behind the reception desk which crackled and popped as flames licked dry wood. To the left of the fireplace was a service doorway.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Sam said and turned to find Dean had shed his winter layers and emerged wearing his usual jeans and a black tee. A pile of snow-dampened jackets littered the floor around him.

“What doesn’t?” Dean glared at the mud stains they had tracked in and began kicking off his boots. He sighed and curled his toes against the warm marble, then stretched his arms, shoulders and back in one fluid motion. It had been a long drive; he could use a drink.

“The door was pulled open from the inside, but it should have been pushed out by the build-up of hot air. You felt that too, right?”

“Sure did.” Dean said.

“That doesn’t seem strange to you.”

“Not really, Sam. We are standing in one of the most haunted hotels in America. It would have been strange if something weird _didn’t_ happen.”

“I guess.” Sam said before he too began pulling off his boots, then approached the curved reception desk. On the bench sat three room keys: 235, 236 and **237** , along with a handwritten note.

_Sam and Dean Winchester,_

_Enjoy your stay at the Overlook Hotel. The pantry is well stocked and there is firewood behind the shed. The boiler pressure needs to be relieved regularly. Open the valve every day._

_There is a satellite phone for emergencies._

_Thank you._

_Regards,_

_Dick Halloran._

_P.S. Stay out of room 237._

“Shotty not taking room 237.” Dean said.

“There are three keys, Dean. Neither of us need to sleep in room 237.” Sam said with an eye roll before he scooped up key 235 and tossed 236 at his brother. “You ready to get to work?”

***

Sam and Dean wandered the maze-like halls of the Overlook Hotel for hours. When they returned to the atrium, where their bags and clothes remained scattered on the floor, both wore disappointed expressions.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“Nope. EMF didn’t budge. I’ve never seen it so still.” Dean said. The lack of movement was more troubling to him than if it had spiked into the hot zone.

“Cold spots?”

“Nothing. This place is like a sauna.” Dean swallowed to wet his dry mouth and throat. The transition between freezing temperatures outside and tropical ones inside had made him incredibly thirsty. He was ready to dive into the bar head first but a deep, nagging voice stopped him. Dean bit the inside of his cheek as he remembered what Cas had said to him a week earlier.

_“You are a liability when you are drinking.”_ Cas could be a real jerk sometimes. Not that the righteous angel was wrong. Dean knew his drinking was getting out of control. Hell, it had been out of control since his returned from… well, Hell. Purgatory hadn’t helped. Loosing Bobby had been one hit too many, and then loosing Charlie too. Time had not dulled those memories, so alcohol did what time could not. Until now.

“Perhaps it’s a clue.” Sam said, breaking Dean’s train of thought. “It’s abnormally hot in here.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Dean, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Quit bugging me.” Dean snapped as he wiped at the sweat dripping down his temple. He was so _damn_ thirsty.

“I’m not bugging you. You’ve been weird since Cas left.” Sam said.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a problem if I invited him to join the hunt?” Sam was poking a sleeping bear, and he knew it. Even so, he was stunned when Dean snapped and threw his homemade EMF machine into the fireplace. He loved that thing. It shattered against the concrete then sparked as the electronics met flame.

Dean furiously stormed towards his brother. He stopped inches from his face and pulled on the front of his Sam’s shirt. Sam was stunned. Dean hadn’t been this easily infuriated since he wore the Mark of Cain.

“Don’t you dare call Cas.” Dean threatened.

Sam nodded dumbly. Dean released Sam, snatched his things off the floor and marched off towards room 236. “I’m going to bed.”

“Don’t you want to eat…”

“I said I’m going to bed!” Dean’s booming voice echoed through the hallway and hidden corners of the Overlook Hotel. The walls soaked up all sound and Sam was left alone in the deafening silence of the luxurious atrium.

***

Sam ate dinner alone, but he didn’t feel alone. The entire time the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something about the pure white walls and heavy, padded doors of the kitchen reminded him of his time in the mental institution with Lucifer whispering in his ear. He felt like someone was hovering just over his shoulder, watching every move he made. The constant creaking of the old wooden foundation of the hotel didn’t help.

The Overlook Hotel had a grim history. It’s most recent victims were the Torrance family. Twenty years ago, Jack Torrance brutally murdered his wife Wendy and five-year-old son Danny with an axe after succumbing to what the cops called ‘cabin fever’.

CRASH!

Sam jumped out of his seat. The clatter of his knife vibrated loudly through his eardrums as it hit the hard floor. Suddenly, he had a moment of sympathy for what Jack Torrance had gone through while isolated here with his family. It had been less than five hours and he and Dean were already fighting. Not that he wanted to murder his brother with an axe... yet. He just hated that Dean and Cas kept things from him. Plus, this place made him jumpy.

Sam was tempted to call Cas, just to stir his brother up. He reached for his mobile, and was unsurprised when he saw that there was no reception. Of course, the note said they had a satellite phone for emergencies. Sam descended into his seat and continued eating his salad. There was less fresh produce in the pantry than he had hoped. Instead, it was full of processed food with little nutritional value. Dean would be thrilled.

With his mind back on the case, Sam recalled that before the Torrance family, a man called Delbert Grady had also killed his family. Before that there had been a series of accidents and murders which brought the hotels body count into the hundreds. It had been twenty years since the last murder – clearly the Torrance family had sated the hotels bloodlust - but it would only be a matter of time before it took another. Sam just hoped it wasn’t him… Or Dean. Although, the way Sam was feeling right now, he might not mind if the hotel knocked his brother around a little. Just a little.

Damn it, if only Dean would tell him what had happened with Cas. At the end of their last hunt, Cas couldn’t wait to get away. The angel had driven off before the witch corpse was even cold. Afterwards, Dean had sulked at the bar. As usual. Something had to have happened there. Sam was aware that Dean hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since that night, but why? And what did it have to do with Cas?

Sam’s eyes drifted from his barely touched dinner to the satellite phone on the wall. The impulse to call Cas was overwhelming. He didn’t realise he had abandoned his dinner until the thick phone was cold in his hand. Sam blinked, a thick cloud of confusion hovered over him as he started blankly at the satellite phone. Slowly, he placed it safely back on the wall. He shook his head, cleaned his plate of now soggy salad and wandered upstairs to his room. He would talk to Dean before he considered calling Cas again.

Sam had no idea that he had been staring, in a trance, at the satellite telephone for hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was surprised to discover that he was awake before Sam the next morning. He sauntered down the spiral staircase, his hands sliding along the smooth wood as he approached the pantry. He felt a nagging hunger, but it was overpowered by his thirst. To his regret, he had to walk past the bar to reach the kitchen. His limbs felt heavy as he eyed the rows of spirits in the glass cabinet. Each one begged for him to take just one sip.

“ _Alcohol will not make you forget_.” Castiel’s gravelly, disapproving voice entered his mind. It gave him the strength to continue into the kitchen and prepare breakfast. Afterwards, Dean stole Sam’s EMF and did another run through the hotel. This time he made sure he entered every room, searched every draw and scoured every hidden corridor, but he found nothing. The place was immaculate. Not a single sneaky stain. No forgotten items from guests. Nothing. He was beginning to think that there wasn’t a case when he reached room 237.

As he approached, he heard Sam snoring down the hall. Dean checked his watch. It was almost 11am. Sam was usually awake before the sun. He furrowed his brow as he approached the forbidden room. His skin felt electric as he grew closer. With every step it felt like the hallway stretched longer before him. Logically, he knew he should call Sam for backup, but something drove him forwards. He didn’t need Sam. Sam deserved a break.

When Dean finally reached room 237, he was surprised to find the key was already in the door, just waiting to be turned. Sam must have put it there after Dean went to bed. He reached forward to turn the key.

Dean flinched. He jolted away when his skin touched the brass.

“Mother f…” Dean hissed, biting his tongue. The key had burned him. It was so hot it had left a visible red outline on his fingers. Something about it seemed similar to the handprint Castiel had left on his shoulder after dragging him from Hell. Dean almost jumped out of his shoes when a warm hand was placed firmly over that very mark.

“Sam, you scared the shit out of me.” Dean cried, pushing his sleepy brother away. He flinched again when his burned hand throbbed.

“What?” Sam said, confused. He had dark rings under his eyes and he looked pale. Dean thought he looked almost as bad as after attempting to close the gates of Hell. A pang of guilt speared through Dean. Just one of the many things he could no longer try and forget with a little help from his old friend alcohol.

“Were you going to go into that room without me? Are you suicidal or just stupid?” Sam croaked.

“I was working the case. Unlike you, Sleeping Beauty. It’s practically the middle of the day.” Dean said.

Sam grunted and rubbed his face with the back of his hand. He could barely remember where he was.

“Are you hungover or something?” Dean couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the thought.

“No, I’m getting sick.” Sam said. His head span and he stumbled as he remembered why he had been sleeping. He felt his stomach clench and had to use the wall to remain upright.

“Dude,” Dean said, concerned. He placed a comforting hand on his brother’s clammy skin, his burning fingers forgotten. “Let’s get you some food.”

“Dean, we should leave.” Sam said as Dean led him down the spiral staircase.

“Why?”

“I have a bad feeling, and…” Sam hesitated.

“Sam, what is it?” Dean asked. Sam collapsed into one of the chairs at the small pantry table.

“I had a dream.”

Dean laughed, turning his back on his delirious brother as he collected eggs, powdered milk and butter for a spontaneous omelette. “Me too. Mine had redheaded twins and a can of whipped cream.”

“Not that kind of dream.” Sam said, his hands fisting in frustration. “I think it was a premonition.”

Dean froze, his shoulders tightened beneath his flannel. Slowly, he returned to cracking and whipping the eggs. “I thought your psychic stuff went away.”

“It did, mostly.”

“Mostly!”

“This is the first premonition I’ve had in years.”

“Then how do you know it was a premonition. You have a fever, you probably just had a crazy dream.” Dean suggested. The butter spattered loudly in the pan. It smelled absolutely delectable and Dean’s mouth began to water.

Sam was silent, his eyes frozen on the shiny metal cutlery lined neatly on the table. He remembered last night when his knife had fallen off the table. He couldn’t remember touching it. He had been thinking about Dean and Cas when it had clattered on the floor. Had he moved it with his mind... or did he just have a fever?

“I think it was a premonition, and I really think we should leave.” Sam said, his voice low and shaky.

His dream was crystal clear in his mind. He could still smell the sweetly scented smoke. Hear the pounding of feet running on wooden floors. Taste the demon blood. Hear Dean’s neck snap. See the key to room 237 and a ripped piece of blue material lying in a pool of sticky blood.

Dean placed a steaming pile of eggs on the table. Sam grimaced at the food, but forced himself to take a bite.

“Alright.” Dean said slowly. He remembered the burn on his palm from the room 237 key and the lack of EMF action. Something weird was definitely happening here, but he had to make sure Sam was okay before anything else. No matter how much of a bitch he was being. “We need to get you to a doctor anyway.”

“Thank you.” Sam breathed. His body relaxed as he began to enthusiastically consume the eggs. Dean turned to gather their things, only to feel Sam’s sweaty hand on his arm. “Dean, be careful.”

Dean laughed. “I always am.”

***

Dean was the opposite of careful as he stormed into his room to noisily pack his things. This whole hunt had been Sam’s idea, and now he wanted to leave. Dean was pissed, but he couldn’t remember feeling pissed when he had left Sam. At some point between the kitchen and his room, Dean had convinced himself that anger was the right reaction to his sick brother begging him to leave the haunted hotel. Dean was almost completely packed before he bothered looking out the wide window of his bedroom. His mouth went dry.  

“Sam, we can’t leave.” Dean said a short time later.

“What, why?” Sam cried. He had managed to eat most of the food Dean had made him, but suddenly wondered if it would all stay down.

“Snowstorm like I have never seen before. The clouds are black. Even if we left immediately we would get caught in it before we reached the nearest town. It would be suicide.”

“I think we should try.” Sam repeated, his vision still clear in his mind. Dean ground his teeth.

“I’m not going to risk our lives just because you had some wacked nightmare. We can leave once the storm passes.” Dean said.

“That could take days.” Sam cried, rising shakily to his feet. Terror pumped through his body. He didn’t want to spend another second in this place. He knew they had to go now or something terrible would happen.

“We aren’t going anywhere.” Dean repeated.

“Fine, I’ll leave. Give me the keys.” Sam said. At least if he was gone, then maybe it wouldn’t be his hands which snapped Dean’s neck.

“No Sam. You can barely stand, let alone drive.” Dean said. He grunted when Sam shoved him roughly and he fell back against the kitchen counter. The hard surface of the oven poked uncomfortably into the base of Dean’s spine.

“We need to get out of here.” Sam said, his hands still raised. It was as if he hadn’t been in complete control of his movements. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Dean.

“Are you insane? We can’t leave.” Dean hissed, moving to shove back at Sam. In the process, his elbow knocked a bottle of liquid spice into the hot frypan. Immediately, the room filled with sweet smelling steam which sizzled mockingly in Sam’s ears. As the liquid began to burn, Sam realised why this all felt so familiar.

Sam collapsed, his legs turning into jelly as the first part of his premonition became a reality. He knew the smell of that unusual sweet smoke, because this time it wasn't just a detail in a dream. This time it was real.

“Come on Sam, I didn’t hit you that hard.” Dean mocked, towering above his little brother like a schoolyard bully. Sam had a moment of clarity. They were both behaving irrationally. Then, something neither of them could have predicted happened. There was a knock on the front door.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Sam and Dean shared a look of surprised horror before both scrambled into the atrium, where they were greeted with nothing but silence.

“Maybe it was a tree branch. It’s getting pretty windy out there.” Dean offered, his hands clasped in front of his chest. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Dean didn’t need another warning, he pulled his pistol from the back of his jeans and pointed it at the threatening doorway.

“I don’t think so.” Sam whispered before falling back to the ground. His head was spinning. “Open it.”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“No way.” Dean said. “You open it.”

“I thought I could barely stand.” Sam mocked, throwing Dean’s words back in his face.

“Fine, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean approached the doorway warily, his heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this scared during a case; except when that ghost fever had got him. It was probably nothing, he told himself. He was being silly. It was just a ghost. Maybe a poltergeist. Nothing they hadn’t dealt with before. Hell, they had literally locked horns with Lucifer. This was nothing.

“Hurry up, would you?” Sam grunted.

“Shut up.” Dean whispered, the gun still held firmly in his sweating palms.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Dean threw the doorway open and blindly released three gunshots.

“Ouch.” A familiar voice greeted them. Dean could only stare dumbly at their visitor.

“Cas?” Sam said, confusion plain in his voice as the trench-coat wearing angel sauntered in from the storm. He was covered in damp snow. “What the Hell are you doing here?”

“Sam, you called me last night and asked that I join the hunt.” Castiel said, his head tilted slightly as he studied Sam. “Are you ill?”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t remember calling Cas. He remembered choosing to talk with Dean. 

“You called him?” Dean burst, furious. The heavy wooden doors slammed loudly behind Castiel, who began dusting his prized trench of loose snow.

“I don’t remember.” Sam said honestly.

“Asshole. I told you not to.” Dean ground out between clenched teeth.

“Why would you do that?” Cas focused his intense, electric blue eyes on Dean. To Sam’s surprise, Dean blushed a deep scarlet.

“How did you even get here, Cas?” Dean changed the subject expertly. He couldn’t remember seeing Castiel’s pimp-mobile lined up in the driveway beside Baby.

“I drove, same as you Dean, but my car broke down halfway up the mountain. A kind man and his family drove me the rest of the way. They should be in shortly.” Perfectly timed, there was another loud BANG at the door before a family of three emerged from the snowstorm. Sam and Dean both sucked in gasps of disbelief.

“Hello, I’m Jack.” Jack Torrance, a man who had been dead for twenty years after massacring his wife and son, said with a pleasant smile. “This is my wife Wendy and my son Danny.”

“Uh.” Dean began, but couldn’t manage to complete his thought. Jack offered his hand to shake, and Dean dumbly reached for it. Before they could make contact, Jack, Wendy and Danny all vanished. Like an angel in flight.

“Hm, I suspected as much.” Cas said calmly, as if the family of three hadn’t just disappeared before their eyes.

“Uh?” Dean said, his hand still outstretched.

“Care to explain, Cas.” Sam said.

“It’s okay, those people were already dead.” Cas began, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. He was cute when he stated the obvious.

“We know, Cas. We do our research before we start a case.”

“Oh, then you already know what is going on.” Dean rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if Castiel was being a sarcastic ass on purpose, or if it was just his nature. “It’s a time loop.”

“Oh no.” Sam gasped. It wasn’t Tuesday, was it?

“Don’t worry, Sam. This is not the act of a trickster, or an archangel for that matter.” Cas said. “This hotel sits atop a nodal point between ley lines, giving the spirits which reside here absolute power. They are capable of bending time and reality to their will.”

“And their will is to kill caretakers.” Sam said, a shudder running through him. They should never have come here.

“Correct. The family who brought me to the hotel was from the past. I am sure my disappearance was the first of many unusual events during their stay twenty years ago.”

“I bet.” Dean muttered. “So that explains why we got no EMF readings or cold spots. These ghosts warped reality.” Cas nodded. “I feel like that’s cheating.”

“Hang on, if these ghosts are so powerful why don’t they kill us now?” Sam asked.

“Don’t give ‘em ideas, Sammy.” Dean whispered, eyeballing the walls cautiously.

“If they killed you now your souls would go directly to Heaven.” Dean liked Castiel’s optimism. “By forcing you to murder each other, they ensure your restless souls will remain tied to the hotel, and each other.” As Cas spoke, a slight frown began to grow on his face.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked.

“It is hot in here.” Cas said before shrugging off his trench-coat. Sam frowned. Dean blushed.

“I thought angels didn’t feel the heat.” Sam said.

“We don’t… usually.” Cas continued rolling up the long sleeves of his white business shirt. Dean thought he looked indecent without his trench-coat, he was practically naked. If he took his blue tie off, Dean didn't trust himself to remain impartial. “This is rather unusual.”

“Since when does ghost trump angel?” Dean said.

“I’m not sure, Dean. But I am glad Sam asked me to join the case.” Cas said. Sam nodded, even though he was certain he hadn’t called Cas. “This one may be beyond even your skills.”

***

The trio discussed their options over lunch. Dean whipped up burgers while Cas examined Sam’s health with his glowing angel-hand.

“You are in perfect health.” Cas said as he leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t feel like I’m in perfect health.” Sam groaned. If anything, he had become more pale and disoriented.

“It is the hotel. It is warping reality to make you feel as you have in the past. Likely after you attempted the trials to close the gates of Hell.” Cas said.

“It can do that? Make you feel things from your past?” Dean asked as he joined the table with three plates and a pallet of burgers balanced between two hands. He immediately began eating, but Sam hesitated.

“Yes, and I am afraid to say that the three of us have more pain in our history than most.” Cas said. Suddenly, Dean didn’t feel so hungry. But damn, he was thirsty.

“What do we do, then? We can’t leave, the snowstorm is intense out there.”

“Even without the snowstorm, I doubt the past caretakers of the Overlook would allow us to walk out of here.” Sam added gloomily.

“I fear our only option is to remain until the hotel reopens.” Cas said.

“Are you kidding me? That’s not for another four weeks.” Dean burst. He could think of nothing worse than being trapped here. Idle. Bored. No television. No contact with the outside world. Nothing to occupy his time but his sick brother and a strict angel. He would definitely go insane. Especially if Cas kept removing layers of clothing. 

“Once the hotel reopens the spirits must lose their control. Historically, they have only taken the winter caretakers.”

“Great.” Dean hissed. “Nice case, Sam.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I told you I wanted to leave this morning.”

“Yeah, well too little too late.”

Castiel watched the brothers squabble as he thoughtlessly picked up a burger and took a bite. It tasted… good. Dean was an adequate chef. He took another bite. And another.

“Dean,” Cas interrupted suddenly. “Something is wrong.” Cas was hungry. He could taste the food. He could feel the heat. He was feeling more human by the minute. Something within the hotel was draining him of his angelic abilities, and it wouldn’t be long before he was just as useless as any other human. Again.


	3. Chapter 3

The snowstorm hit the Overlook with a vengeance not long after Castiel’s arrival. The howling wind and cracking of tree branches haunted the trio as they desperately tried to solve their predicament. They couldn’t leave by any conventional means, the spirits of the house were too strong. Somehow, they needed to weaken the hotel so they could make their escape. But they couldn’t exactly salt and burn a ley line.

“Can’t we salt and burn the hotel?” Dean asked some time later. They were lounging in one of many sitting rooms on large leather couches by a crackling fireplace. The fireplaces were always running, even though nobody had bothered to light or stock them with firewood.

“With us trapped inside?” Sam grunted. He was shivering and covered in a glistening layer of sweat. His skin was almost translucent and his eyes were bloodshot. Dean remembered the fear he had felt when Sam had been dying after attempting the trials. He had saved Sam’s life then by allowing Gadreel to possess him and, in doing so, had kick-started a chain of events which led to Metatron’s fiasco, and the Mark of Cain, and the Darkness, and Lucifer being freed once more. Damn, he was such a screw-up. He couldn’t even save his brother without setting off another apocalypse.

“Even if we did burn down the hotel, the source of its power would remain. These places exist all over the planet. They cannot be destroyed. You may have heard of the Bermuda Triangle?” Castiel said, his voice lower and gruffer than usual. He had a bad attitude when he was human, not that Dean could blame him. It was like future, hippy Cas had once said; _“I used to belong to a much better club.”_

“So it’s not aliens making planes disappear in the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Not always.” Cas said offhandedly.

“What?”

CRASH!

The three men jolted to their feet and reached for their weapon of choice. Dean gripped his pistol, Sam reached for Ruby’s knife and Castiel grabbed his angle blade. There was a long moment of silence… and then, beginning at the seam of the roof, litres of sticky, congealed blood flowed like a waterfall, painting the tasteful blue walls red.

“Gross.” Dean said, his nose crinkled in disgust. Sam flopped back into his chair and continued warming his hands by the fire.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to make us kill each other.” Sam shrugged before coughing into his hand. The wet sound which followed made Dean nervous. His stomach sank when Sam pulled his hand away to find it soaked in blood. “Cas, are you sure they won’t just kill us outright?”

Cas shook his head. “They can only use the past against us.”

“We have died in the past. All of us. More than once.” Dean offered as he tossed a stray box of tissues at Sam.

“I am aware, Dean.” Cas grunted and began unbuttoning his business shirt, followed by his suit pants. An unwelcome spark of desire curled low in Dean's belly. 

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Dean said, almost swallowing his tongue.

Cas raised an eyebrow in response. “It is too hot for these clothes.”

_Yeah it is_ , Dean thought. 

“I’ll give you something cooler to wear.” Dean huffed out a nervous laugh before abandoning Sam in the bloody waterfall room. Technically, Cas was right. It was a tropical paradise inside the hotel. Sam was shivering from fever, so he was quite happy wrapped in his blanket cocoon. Dean, however, was swimming in his jeans and black tee. He hated to think about how he smelt.

Dean and Cas ascended the stairs in silence, the awkwardness from their conversation last week hovered over them. When they reached Dean’s room, Cas was immediately preoccupied with the brass key sitting in the door to room 237.

“We were told to stay out of that room.” Dean muttered as he struggled with his own room key. Cas ignored him and approached the door as if in a trance. His hand reached forward in slow motion to grip the handle which had burned Dean hours earlier. “Wait, Cas!”

The door swung open. Cas was unscathed and moved to step inside. He was halfway into the room before Dean hurled him back and pinned him against the far wall of the hallway. Cas struggled, their bodies brushed, before he fell limply against the wall. Dean turned to look over his shoulder into room 237. He saw nothing but the door slamming in his face.

“What the…?” Dean muttered. He turned back to Castiel, who was blinking away his confusion. “What did you see?” 

Castiel was stunned. What had happened? He had completely lost control of his body, and still that room called to him. He tried to push towards the door, but Dean's body was firmly in the way. 

“I don’t… It didn’t make any sense.” Cas said, his cheeks pink against his pale face. His blue eyes look massive. Dean tried to ignore the heat he felt every time Cas brushed against him. 

“What did you see?” Dean repeated. Castiel’s eyes focused on Dean’s face, which was far closer than he had expected. Their noses were almost touching. Dean saw Castiel’s eyes widen and his pupils dilate. _Could that mean...?_

“Dean, your eyes.” Cas whispered in horror. They were black. Pure, demon black. He struggled in Dean’s grip, fearing for his life. _What was happening? Was this real_? Castiel’s eyes darted to the crook of Dean’s elbow where a familiar, raised red scar had appeared. Cas felt like he was going to be sick. It was the Mark of Cain.

“Damnit Cas, what did you see!” Dean burst, furing rushing suddenly through him. He shoved Cas roughly against the wall and his head snapped painfully against the white plaster, leaving a small chip where his skull collided. The Mark of Cain had returned, and Dean was a Knight of Hell once more. On top of that, Castiel couldn’t get the vision of room 237 out of his mind’s eye. He felt sick with terror as the last of his angelic abilities drained away.

“Tell me what you saw.” Dean repeated, his voice low as his hands reached up to wrap around Castiel’s throat. 

“Dean, please.”

“Tell me.” Dean whispered. Dean’s chest pressed Cas firmly into the wall, and his warm breath fanned over his face. He struggled to catch his breath as Dean’s strong hands tightened around his throat.

“Sam.” Cas choked. “I saw Sam.”

***

Sam’s hands shook. His mind was a fog of confusion. He was dying. He could practically hear the spirits in the house laughing at him. They enjoyed watching him suffer. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas had ditched him under some pretense that Cas needed a change of clothes. _Puh-lease._ Sam wasn’t blind, nor was he stupid.

“Too right, Sammy. That brother of yours could really use an axe to the head.” Sam almost fell off the couch when he heard a familiar, jeering voice over his shoulder. 

“Lucifer.” Sam gasped. He immediately reached for his palm to put pressure on an old wound. It was a technique he used to confirm reality. He hadn’t needed it since Bobby’s death. The pain spiked, and Lucifer’s image shimmered, but remained. “You aren’t real.”

“Gold star for you.” Lucifer laughed as he flopped onto the couch beside Sam. Sam immediately shifted as far away from the fallen angel as he could. He didn’t trust his legs to hold him.

“You are just part of this hotel. Warping reality.”

“You are on fire, Sam. Literally. A few more degrees and your brain will melt.” Lucifer said like he couldn’t wait to watch the gooey mess of Sam’s brain dribble out his ears. “Now, we need to talk about Dean.”

“I’m not going to kill my brother.” Sam said, though he was beginning to have doubts. His bloody vision was so clear, and the hotel was powerful. What if he killed Dean? Or Cas? What if he wasn’t strong enough to resist?

“Fine, what about Castiel?” Lucifer said. “That holy tax accountant is stealing your brother.”

Sam laughed. “I’m not jealous of Castiel. Dean needs all the friends he can get.”

“Oh, but Castiel isn’t just a friend, is he?” Lucifer was being provocative, inching closer to Sam until he was almost in his lap. Sam resisted the urge to push him away. He wasn’t real. None of this was real.

“Of course he’s just a friend.” Sam said, but the idea had secured itself firmly in his brain. Suddenly, everything fell into place. Castiel had always displayed a devotion to Dean which he did not share with anyone else. Perhaps the angel did feel a kind of romantic love for Dean. But Dean was a ladies man all the way... right?

Sam remembered their last case together. Killing the witch had been straightforward enough. Cas had left immediately, and Dean had abandoned Sam soon afterwards to visit the local bar. Nothing unusual about that. But since that night, Dean hadn’t had a single drink.  

“Do you know what happened at the bar?” Sam asked. Lucifer shook his head, but the grin never left his face. He knew he had Sam’s attention now.

“Why don’t you ask Dean?”

“Sam, we have a problem.” Dean burst into the room, Cas at his heels. Sam knew immediately. He could smell it.

“You are a demon.” Sam said, his pupils dilating. That sweet demon blood. He remembered the power it gave him. It would heal him, he knew it would. _Oh, shit_ , he thought. He remembered his premonition; the taste of demon blood. It had been so clear, and now he could smell it. _He wanted it._

Sam shot to his feet. Cas placed a warning hand on Dean’s shoulder. They brothers faced each other from across the room. Both were under the influence, and Cas was useless.

“I have the Mark of Cain.” Dean confessed, his fists clenched as he angrily shrugged Castiel’s hand off his shoulder.

“I’m craving demon blood.” Sam said, his eyes darting to his feet in shame. He was a freak, a monster, just like Dean said. “And Lucifer is in my head.” Sam knew now was not the time for lies. While he still could, he needed to be honest with his brother.

“I saw something in room 237.” Cas said, his brow furrowed as he regarded Sam with curiosity. 

“What did you see?” Sam asked. Cas didn't answer. 

Sam sighed. “I need a drink.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Lucifer served Sam a series of beers and chatted mindlessly. Each drink numbed him to the pain of his sickness, and lowered his desperate desire for demon blood. Blood which was within his reach. Perhaps he could ask Dean to give him some. Just a little. Then, maybe, he could focus his mind on the case. Maybe then they would have a chance of escaping this cursed hotel.

Dean approached the bar cautiously and sat three stools to the right of his brother. Sam was very aware that Dean did not make himself a drink.

“Ask him.” Lucifer insisted.

“Here.” Sam said, pushing his fresh beer along the counter towards Dean. Dean batted the drink back like a hockey puck. “What is wrong with you? Why won’t you drink?”

Dean shrugged, his eyes fixed on the reflective surface of the bar. God knew he wanted to. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this kind of thirst. It was like he had been wandering in the desert and alcohol was his oasis. When Sam moved one stool closer, Dean moved two away.

“Damn it, Dean. Drink something.” Sam insisted, pushing the drink back at his brother. “Or tell me why you won’t.”

“Why are you being such an ass?” Dean hissed, his green eyes turned black under the influence of the Mark. The familiar fury was just below the surface, and the desire to kill inches below that. It wouldn’t take much to set him off. Dean had already bashed Castiel's head against a wall. The memory of their bodies pressed so tightly together made him flush with shame, and arousal. He was so doomed. 

“I know something happened between you and Cas.” Sam said, and swore he heard Dean’s heart race. The stench of demon blood surrounded him, drawing him closer. Sam found himself unconsciously reaching for Ruby’s knife.

“I want to know.” Sam’s voice took on a softer tone as he approached Dean, like a hunter stalking its prey.

“It was nothing.” Dean hissed, his face turned away from Sam’s. He didn’t want his brother to see his black eyes. They shamed him. Reminded him of the evil he had participated in while under the influence of the Mark, and Crowley.

“Tell me.” Sam said, standing directly behind Dean. His eyes were drawn to a vein pulsating by Dean’s throat. It would be so easy to slice him open. Drink that sweet nectar. Sam would be healed. He wouldn’t feel like he was hanging on the edge of death anymore. Damn, he needed it. Dean would understand. He would forgive him. He always did.

Sam raised the blade and licked his lips.

Dean moved faster than Sam could see, his demon reflexes gave him a significant advantage over the weakened Sam. Sam blinked and suddenly he was face down on the sticky bar floor.

Sam heard the sound of running footsteps and felt his blood run cold. He remembered that sound from his premonition. Next came the snap of broken bone, then... Demon blood. Sam’s terror was overcome by his need. He flipped Dean off his back, the blade still firmly gripped in his hand. He used his knees to pin Dean’s legs, then moved to slice at his throat. Dean shoved Sam’s arm to the side to prevent a killing blow to the jugular, but couldn’t stop him from opening a shallow wound on his upper shoulder.

“Argh.” Dean grunted in pain, shoving at his deranged brother just as Cas burst into the room. His chest was heaving, he had been running. It was strange to see Cas out of breath. 

“Dean!” Cas cried. Sam glared over his shoulder and bared his teeth at Castiel in warning. Cas, the love-struck idiot that he was, ignored Sam’s clear message and ran towards them.

Dean found his feet a second after Sam did, and moved to kick his brother’s legs out from beneath him. But Sam was quick for his size, and managed to vault over Dean’s attack before kicking Dean square between the legs, again in the solar plexus, then delivered a final punch to the face. Just to make sure he stayed down.  

“Whoo-hoo!” Lucifer cried from his perch on top of the bar. He had manifested a bowl of popcorn and was crunching away happily.

“Sam, stop.” Cas cried as he fell to the ground beside an unconscious Dean. “You can fight this.”

Sam took a step towards Dean’s prone body. Cas placed himself firmly in the way; protecting Dean. Stupid, Sam thought.

“Cas, I just need a little. I won’t kill him. I just need his blood.” Sam begged, but Cas refused to budge. He took another step towards Cas and Dean.

“Sam,” Cas said, his hands raised defensively. He had no weapons. Nothing to protect Dean from his insane brother. “Please, control yourself.”

Sam grinned before he slashed. Cas jumped back just in time to avoid the knife, but not fast enough to see Sam’s other hand reach forward to pull Cas closer. Cas cried out as Sam pulled him against his chest. Castiel was scared and confused when Sam dropped Ruby’s knife. At their feet, Dean groaned in pain as he regained consciousness.

“Next time, try harder to protect your boyfriend.” Sam whispered. He gripped Castiel’s right arm firmly with both hands, then brought it down over his knee. The dull snap of cracking bone echoed through the hotel, shortly followed by Castiel’s scream. His arm was broken, and Cas couldn't remember ever feeling this much pain. He fell to his knees.

Sam, uncaring, stepped around the angel and bent to pick up Ruby’s blade. The scent of demon blood was heady and pure in the air. He knelt beside his brother and slashed at the existing cut just above his shoulder, ripping Dean’s black shirt in the process. The blood flowed freely. Sam stared at his hands, now covered in fresh demon blood. But it was also Dean’s blood. He couldn’t stop himself from licking his fingers, then all hope of control fled.

His teeth dug into the skin of Dean’s shoulder as he drank. The moment the blood entered his system, Sam was overcome with bliss. His entire body relaxed and the world fell away. This… This was all he needed.

“Sam.” Dean grunted and tried to push him away, but Sam was stronger now. Stronger than a demon. “Sam, get off!” Dean hissed and clipped Sam’s temple with his elbow. Sam recoiled, only to receive a second blow to the face. Sam may have been stronger than a demon, but he was not stronger than a Knight of Hell.

They were both panting and on their knees. Dean had one hand over the flow of blood from his neck. Sam had one hand holding Ruby’s blade. They were evenly matched, and they were both mad as Hell. Neither noticed when Castiel found his feet. His broken arm was held awkwardly against his chest, while the other was outstretched to the space between Sam and Dean.

Slowly, he began to chant in Latin.  

“What?” Lucifer said, the excitement draining from his eyes. He leapt off the bar to throw himself at Casitel, but he was nothing more than a figment of Sam’s imagination. He vanished the moment he made contact.

“Cas, what are you…” Dean began, then cried out in surprise when he was propelled over the bar and against the wall of spirits. Glass shattered and rained down around him. The same happened to Sam, only his resting place was on the opposite side of the room.

“You ass-butts.” Cas cursed, his face strained. He was an angel, he could barely comprehend human emotions, let alone physical human pain. His broken arm was a thousand times worse than any pain he felt as an angel. “You have been here less than two days. The other humans lasted months!”

The magic Castiel conjured wore off and the brothers fell to the ground. Cas was a fragile human, but he was still a badass. He knew a few tricks, and he had a feeling he’d need them for this case.

“Damn.” Cas groaned as he clutched his broken arm to his chest. It felt like thousands of tiny knives dragging over, and under, his skin.

Sam and Dean were frozen on opposite sides of the room as their actions sank in. Dean glared daggers at Sam, and Sam stared helplessly at the marble floor. He wanted more demon blood. The small taste he had gotten only made him desperate. Dean was pissed, and who could blame him? His brother had just sucked his blood.

Everybody was silent, until Sam finally spoke.

“I’m sorry.” He said before quitting the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: A few dark themes (relating to suicide) in this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter is rated M. 
> 
> (Sorry I've been absent - Bali called to me. ;) I should post the rest of this fic over the next week.)

“Good riddance.” Dean grunted as he carefully pried Castiel’s broken arm away from his chest and onto the cool kitchen table. His eyes remained an unnerving shade of demon black. It made Castiel nervous to be receiving medical attention from a Knight of Hell, even if it was Dean.

They decided to lock the door and hide in the kitchen while they stitched themselves up. Both knew they couldn’t survive another attack from Sam while he was hyped up on demon blood. It was safer that they lick their wounds for a couple of hours before they planned their next move. It had become glaringly obvious to all three that they would not survive long in this hellhole.

“He’s your brother.” Cas said, trying not to stare at the unnatural bend in his forearm.

“He tried to kill me.” Dean said. “Also, did you know that I like to wear women’s underwear?”

“Pardon? Aaaaahhh!” Cas screamed when Dean snapped his broken arm into place against a makeshift splint, which just happened to be a large wooden spoon. He efficiently wrapped Castiel’s arm in ripped up cloth and tied it off at the wrist. Castiel’s arm still throbbed, but the pain was significantly reduced.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas gasped and leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed to focus his mind on anything but the pain. “You don’t really wear women’s underwear, do you?”

Dean laughed, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “No Cas, I was just distracting you.”

They shared an awkward silence. Both listened to the sound of wind whistling around the hotel. Dean occupied his mind by gathering a handful of towels to hold against his clotting neck wound. It wasn’t very deep, thankfully.

“Cas, are we going to talk about what happened?” Dean said finally, breaking the silence.

“You mean about the Mark of Cain turning you into a demon?” Cas asked, his eyes darting around the room to rest anywhere but on Dean’s handsome face.

“No.”

“Sam cutting you open to drink your blood?”

“Ah, no.”

“The fact that I used witch magic to stop you two from killing each other?”

“Cas, are you being intentionally dense?”

“No, I just didn’t want to talk about it. I thought that was obvious.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Look, I wanted to thank you.” The words tasted like dust on Dean’s tongue, and a familiar sensation of shame filled his chest. “And I wanted to tell you that I’ve stopped drinking.”

Castiel’s face lit up with surprise, quickly followed by joy. “That’s wonderful, Dean.”

“I’m not saying I’m going sober, but I heard what you said.”

_“You are a liability when you are drinking. Drinking won’t make you forget.”_ The words echoed through Dean’s skull. He couldn’t seem to shake them.

“I won’t drink on a hunt again.” Cas smiled so widely that the delicate folds around his eyes became more prominent. Damn, Castiel was gorgeous. Especially when the glow of humanity added depth to his features and colour to his face. Dean leaned closer.

“I’m glad.” Cas said. “But I have not forgotten what you did.”

Dean was too preoccupied with Castiel’s plump, kissable lips to immediately register the significance of his words.

“Hmmm. What?” Dean’s pleading gaze rose to meet’s Castiel’s piercing blue eyes.

“You were reckless and stupid.”

“I know, Cas. Don’t you think I feel bad enough already?”

Dean flinched when Cas leapt to his feet and began marching around the pantry, his broken arm held awkwardly against his chest. “You almost died after that witch hunt.”

“But you saved me, and I’m glad I’m not dead.”

“Are you?” His words hung in the air. Dean’s stomach felt like it was filled with slime.

“You knew?” Dean’s words confirmed what Cas had only speculated. The angel had never looked more lost. His devastation was quickly overcome by fury and he began smashing random crockery with his good hand like a large toddler throwing a tantrum. Dean hoped it was the Mark talking, but he couldn’t help but find the angels fit mildly amusing. At least, until he began chanting in Latin.

“Cas, what are you doing?’ Dean asked warily, his hands outstretched in case he was sent flying. Cas didn’t pause, only continued to chant in that low, husky register which Dean found somewhat distracting. Especially with the Mark of Cain lowering his inhibitions.

“Cas…” Dean couldn’t complete his thought before he was forced to his knees by some unseeable pressure. It took all of his energy to keep his head from smacking into the floor.

“You tried to kill yourself.” Cas accused. Dean whimpered as the pressure increased tenfold and he was sent onto his hands and knees. It was like the weight of a car was crushing him towards the ground.

“No… Ahh.” Dean grunted as his sweating palms began to slip along the marble.

“You knew you had been cursed by that witch. You knew you were dying.” Cas had never felt such rage. Human life was precious, and Dean’s even more so. “If I hadn’t found you and healed you, you would have died in that bar. Drunk and alone.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Don’t be sorry.” Cas said. His tone was harsh, but the pressure on Dean’s shoulders lessened. “Tell me why.”

“I thought it would be easier.” Dean choked. His entire body shook as the pressure returned. He sensed Cas kneel to his left and lean closer.

“Easier than what?” 

What Dean did next would never have happened if he hadn’t been cursed by the Mark. Dean was the master of suppressed feelings and denial. Demon Dean, however, embraced the crazy. He grabbed a fistful of Castiel’s white business shirt and tugged. He told himself later that his goal had been to pull Cas beneath the magical weight to break the spell. That plan backfired when the newly human Cas, already crippled with a broken arm, fell limply to Dean’s will until both men were trapped in a tangle of awkward limbs beneath an ever-increasing pressure spell.

Cas was pinned firmly by Dean’s knees; one on either side of his narrow hips. Dean’s large hands were splayed wide against Cas’s chest. Both were gasping. Dean could feel Castiel’s heart race beneath his palms. The angel sucked in a surprised breath when Dean slipped further under the pressure of the spell until their faces were inches apart. Their breath mingled and their eyes locked. For a moment, it felt like the world stopped. Cas saw desire and fear in Dean’s pure black eyes, but he couldn’t be sure if it was Dean, or just the Mark.

“Dean.” Cas whispered, his body tensing when Dean fell closer. Castiel felt hypersensitive and electric. Every brush of his slender, human body against Dean’s felt like Heaven. “Please.” His voice broke.

Neither man knew if Cas was begging for more, or less.

Dean barely noticed when the pressure spell was broken. It didn’t stop the magnetic urge to ravish the newly human angel between his legs. Their bodies were flush, their breath mingled, their eyes pleaded, but Dean held back.

It was Castiel who breached that final distance to claim Dean’s mouth.

Cas swallowed Dean’s moan as their lips slid together. He arched his back and hips, putting pressure on Dean’s chest and thighs. The friction between Dean’s jeans was uncomfortable, until Dean slid his thigh between Castiel’s legs and gave a light thrust.

Cas broke the kiss to gasp, his neck arching temptingly. He moaned when Dean’s mouth locked onto a particularly sensitive corner of his neck and began to suck. Cas felt his good hand move of its own volition from where it was tangled in Dean’s hair, down his back to his toned ass. He splayed his hand and pulled Dean closer until their hips slid deliciously together.

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean groaned. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten so hard, so fast. All pain but the steadily building heat between his legs forgotten, Cas reached out with his broken hand. Only to cry out in pain when Dean bumped the battered limb.

“Shit.” Dean gasped. It required every ounce of his willpower to roll off Castiel’s willing, warm body. Dean’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared blankly at the white ceiling.

Cas tensed and relaxed. His body confused between pleasure and pain. His arm throbbed, among other things.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was low and gruff and crackly and it was almost enough to make Dean jump him again. He sounded absolutely wrecked, and Dean liked it. He wanted to hear him make those pleasured noises again.

Cas had to clear his throat before he could continue. “I’m still mad at you.”

Dean began to chuckle. This was insane. Fuck, their entire lives were insane. “Then I’ll kiss you again and make you forget.”

Cas blushed. “Dean.”

“Yes?”

“I would like that very much.”

Dean groaned. Pleasure coiled in his gut. The angel was going to kill him.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam locked himself in his room to ponder his sins. His entire body vibrated with power. Dean’s blood had been like an electric shock to his core. Moments earlier he was on the edge of death, now he felt invincible. Why couldn’t Dean have given him the blood he needed? Why did he have to be so selfish?

And Cas, always so eager to protect his favourite human. He shouldn’t have gotten in the way. Sam really had no other option but to break Castiel’s arm.

“Damn straight, Sam.” Lucifer encouraged. That was when Sam knew he was falling completely off the rails. The moment Lucifer started agreeing with you, that’s when you call for backup.

“I’m a monster.” Sam choked as he desperately tried to wash his hands of Dean’s blood, but kept going back to lick off any traces which remained. God, he was weak.

“Probably.” Lucifer shrugged as he studied flecks of dirt and… was that blood?... beneath his elongated fingernails. “But you always did like being a monster.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then why do you keep turning into one, Sammy?”

“Don’t call me that.” Sam hissed, his hands shaking with fury.

“Oh, please.” Lucifer sighed, his eyes rolling as he approached Sam and sat beside him on the bed. “You’re a monster. I’m a monster. Even Dean is a monster right now with the whole Mark of Cain shtick. The only one who isn’t a monster is pure, delicate little Castiel. Though the pure thing might not be true for long.”

“What?”

“My point is, Sammy, embrace the crazy!” Sam had no idea how close Lucifer’s words mirrored Dean’s thoughts moments earlier.

Sam didn’t have a moment to consider the validity of Lucifer’s words before an alarm began blaring from down the hallway.

“What now?” Sam grunted, his head was beginning to ache. The demon blood was wearing off. It wouldn’t be long before he was desperate and dying once again, and he hated to think what it would make him do to Dean.  

***

Dean and Cas broke apart like teenagers who had been caught by their parents.

“What is that noise?” Cas grunted. His face was flushed and his lips swollen. Dean almost didn’t care that the alarm was probably a life-saving warning. He wanted to grab the angel and never let go.

“Sounds like a fire alarm.” Dean said as he found his feet and approached the pantry door. He reached for the lock, then hesitated. “What if it’s a trap?”

Cas huffed and grabbed his angel blade off the table with his non-broken hand. “Would that really change anything? Trap or no trap, we have to investigate.”

Dean smiled. Castiel knew him well. They emerged from the pantry and entered the atrium, which seemed to be the source of the sound. Almost in the same moment, Sam reached the bottom step on the staircase. Dean glared at his brother. The sight of his blood staining Sam’s chin and neck made him feel slightly ill, and encouraged that ever present fury from the Mark to bubble inside him.

Sam couldn’t meet his brother’s gaze. He had to fist his hands to prevent their shaking. He wanted more blood. _More. More. More._

“Sam, do you know what is causing this noise?” Castiel called out from across the room.

“No idea.” Sam responded. “Do you smell smoke?”

Sam and Dean realised their mistake in the same instant, and shared a look of concern. “The boiler.”

“The what?” Cas asked.

“The note said the boiler valve needed to be opened every day.” Sam said. “I forgot.”

“Me too.” Dean said.

“Well,” Cas said, exasperated. They brothers had one job, and they failed even that. “Where is the boiler?”

Dean bolted, Sam on his heels. He vaulted over the reception desk and smashed through the service door which led outside. The tropical heat vanished in an instant and was replaced with freezing temperatures and sharp wind. The boiler was in the shed, which was about a hundred metres from the main hotel. It would have been an easy stroll on a normal day, but the snow storm was in full force. Dean could barely see a metre in front of him, but he could smell the smoke. If they weren’t quick, the shed would go up in flames.

Dean didn’t hesitate, just ran face-first into the storm. The shock of snow on his skin almost knocked him backwards. He had to remind himself to breathe as he pushed through the blinding whiteness. He felt thousands of tiny knives dig into his bare skin as he slowly trudged through the knee high snow. He shivered for a moment, but his entire body went numb disturbingly quickly. He wore weather inappropriate jeans and a tee shirt. It was lucky he still had his boots on.

“Dean!” Sam called from somewhere behind him. He sounded close. Dean cursed him. Sam was supposed to be the smarter brother, what the Hell did he think he was doing running after him?

It felt like forever before Dean could see the dark outline of the shed through the snow. Immediately, his heart sank. They were too late. He saw flashes of orange and red light behind the windows, and watched in horror as the glass shattered and the roof collapsed inwards. The fire raged, huge towers of flames reaching into the sky as the gas pipes which serviced the hotel were ruptured. This was bad.

“Well, shit.” Dean muttered, then flinched when he felt a heavy hand land on his injured shoulder. “Ouch, Sam.”

“Sorry.” Sam wheezed, the cold air causing his long dormant asthma to present itself. “What… Do… We… Do…?”

“We grab our things and get the hell out of here.” Dean said.

“But, Cas said the hotel wouldn’t let us leave.”

“We have to try. Unless you’d rather freeze to death. Or be burned alive. Or be murdered by me or Cas. Whichever comes first.” Dean said dispassionately, his tone even and low, courtesy of the Mark.

“Alright.” Sam said, before he collapsed, completely unconscious, into the thick snow.

“Oh geez, really?” Dean said, leaning down to grab his brother and drag him up, only to freeze when a familiar growling sound echoed through the storm. It couldn’t be… His blood ran cold when he saw an eerie, dark outline in the snow. It had no features at this distance, was only a faint shape, but it was enough to make Dean want to abandon his brother and run.

“Sam, you have to get up.” Dean said, shaking his brothers limp shoulder. “Sam!”

The dark beast growled and began padding through the snow towards them. A second one was close behind. Hellhounds.

“Shit.” Dean hissed before grabbing his enormous brother under the armpits. He grunted and began dragging him back towards the hotel. There was no way they would make it. “Cas!”

The pair of hellhounds stalked closer, their red eyes glowing through the storm. It was all Dean could see as he desperately dragged Sam, inch by inch, back towards the hotel which had cursed them, but now provided them with very necessary shelter. “Cas!”

Dean didn’t dare look over his shoulder to check if help was coming, or even to see how far before they reached the safety of the hotel. He knew the second he looked away, those beasts would be on him. He’d be dead in a second. Sam too.

Every step Dean took was agony, his chest burning from the cold as he heaved Sam’s limp body towards the hotel.

The hellhounds, which had initially been approaching at a casual walk, increased their pace to an amble, a trot, and then a sprint as they caught a clear scent of the Winchester brothers. Seconds, Dean thought, they would be on top of them in seconds. He had no weapons which would work against hellhounds. He grabbed his pistol and fired a few rounds, but the beasts didn’t even slow down. Where the Hell was Cas?

Dean looked down at his unconscious brother, then back to the approaching hounds. “Over here! Look at me! Come and get me!” Dean dropped Sam into the snow and ran into the storm, his arms waving and his legs pumping as he desperately sought the attention of the hounds. “Come and take a bite!”

Dean was half relieved, half terrified when the two beasts chased after him. He had barely made it ten metres in the thick snow before he could feel their breath on the back of his neck. It was right behind him. Dean shuddered when its hot breath fanned his freezing body. He froze, standing as still as possible as the thing raised its head a licked a hot stripe up Dean’s back. Gross, he thought, in the second before its enormous paw knocked him flat on his back and deep into the snow.

His vision blurred, and he cried out as the things claws dug into his shoulders and pressed him deeper into his snowy white tomb. It growled, its teeth shinning a brilliant green as it hovered over him and shook its brilliant mane. Hang on, Dean thought, that didn’t make sense. Hellhounds don’t have manes.

“Dean!” Cas came running out of nowhere, angel blade ready as he propelled himself at the beast and sliced its head clean off. Dean spluttered as little green leaves and branches rained down over him. It wasn’t a hellhound, it had been one of the topiary lions. He _knew_ those things were shifty. Dean never thought he’d be relieved to see them again. They beat hellhounds any day. Cas dug him out from beneath the scattered branches and pulled him to his feet.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Where’s…” Dean answered his own question when he saw the second topiary lion rear up on two legs and slash with its massive paws. “Sam!”

Dean snatched the angel blade from Castiel and threw himself at the lion. He was startled when he collided with what was essentially a tree, and began slashing like an enraged gardener. The lion shook him free, uncaring, and returned to its meal.

“Cut off the head, Dean.” Castiel yelled over the whistling of the snow. The lion opened its jaws, roaring as it prepared to clamp down over Sam’s torso.

“Don’t eat my brother!” Dean hissed as he brought the angel blade down and sliced off its head. The beast dissolved into a million leaves and branches, burying Sam.

“We have to get him inside.” Dean said. He pulled Sam free of the branches and slowly dragged him back into the hotel. Castiel, feeling useless with his broken arm and pathetic human status, trailed along glumly and slammed the door shut behind them. Compared with the freezing temperatures outside, the hotel was pleasantly toasty, but it was nowhere near as tropical as it had been before the boiler explosion. At least that explained why it had been so hot. Nothing supernatural about that, the Winchesters were just idiots who couldn’t follow simple instructions.

“I feel weird.” Cas said, his teeth jittering from the cold. Dean flopped the unconscious Sam into one of the lounge chairs by the reception desk. Sam groaned and began to wake. Perfect, Dean thought, wake up now that the danger is over.

“You’re cold. Probably got hypothermia.” Dean said. His eyes darted to the fireplace. Before it had always been stocked and flaming. Suddenly, it was nothing but charcoal. “We need to warm you up. Of the three of us, you are the most fragile right now.”

“Ahem.” Sam grunted. His bloodshot eyes fluttered open and focused on Dean. “I’m dying too, Dean.”

“Don’t be such a princess, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes, but couldn’t bury his relief. His brother was okay. The last of the demon blood had probably been used up keeping him alive in the freezing temperatures. That explained why he passed out, and why he looked half-way to death again. “You know the hotel can’t kill you.”

“Those lions certainly gave it a go.” Sam reminded Dean, who frowned. 

“Cas, if this hotel is so powerful, how come it allowed the boiler to blow up? Why did those Little Shop of Horrors rejects try and kill us? Why is it trying to freeze us out?”

“Ooh, I know! Pick me, pick me!” Lucifer cried from the corner, his arm raised like an eager schoolgirl. Sam rolled his eyes, then began to hack up blood.

“It’s because the hotel already got what it wanted.” Cas said ominously. His face paled as he put the pieces together.

“What did it want?”

“Me.” Cas said.

Sam’s head jerked towards Castiel just in time to watch him collapse.


	7. Chapter 7

“Cas, what the Hell?” Dean cursed and fell to his knees beside the ex-angel. He began lightly shaking his shoulders. Initially, Dean was gentle, he didn’t want to further injure Castiel’s broken arm. When he realised Cas wasn’t breathing, he shook harder. “Cas!”

Sam felt like he was dying before, but that was nothing compared with how he felt now. He groaned through his teeth between coughing fits. Blood dribbled from his mouth and out his nose and ears. It felt like his organs were liquefying.

He remembered his confusion when Castiel arrived. It made no sense, Sam hadn’t called Cas to join the hunt. He distinctly remembered NOT calling Cas. So, who had called if it wasn’t Sam? Cas said Sam called him. Cas said…

“Dean.” Sam croaked. “What did Cas see in room 237?”

“Not now, Sam.” Dean huffed as he began compressions against Castiel’s chest. Cas had no pulse, and he wasn’t breathing. Panic buzzed in the back of Dean’s mind.

“Was it me?”

“What?” Dean took a deep breath, pinched Cas’ nose and breathed for him. His chest rose, then fell still. Terror began to tear through Dean’s chest.   

“Did Cas see me in room 237?”

“Yes!”

“We have to get to room 237. It all makes sense now.”

“How does any of this make sense?” Dean cried, nearly hysterical as he pulled Castiel’s body against his chest and headed for the one place they had been specifically told to avoid. Sam stumbled behind Dean, clawing his way up the stairs and down the hallway.

As they struggled down the hall, waterfalls of blood began pouring down the walls. Sam crinkled his nose, the blood smelled awful to his demon heightened senses. When they finally reached the door to room 237, Dean didn’t bother with the key. He shouldered it open. With the awkward weight of Casitel’s limp body in his arms, Dean stumbled and almost collided with the tall man standing in the centre of the hotel room.

Sam struggled into the room after Dean and Cas, his eyes widening as they fell on the room’s sole occupant.

“Sam?” Dean questioned.

***

Sam’s doppelganger turned to face the hunters, his face stony and blank. He wore a flannel shirt and blue jeans. Everything about him was identical to Sam, except that this version wasn’t dying and craving demon blood. This version was clean of blood and blame.

“Sam, I’m glad you found me.”

Dean was torn between continuing compressions against Casitel’s chest, and eyeballing the two Sam’s standing in the room. In the end, saving Castiel won.

“It’s pointless, Dean.” The other Sam said. Dean ignored him. He continued compressions and pinched Castiel’s nose.

“I don’t understand.” Dean huffed, breathed for Castiel, then continued pounding his chest. Cas didn’t stir. A numb kind of fear began to run through Dean. Castiel couldn’t die. Not like this. Not after they’d finally shared something which made Dean feel like he had a future worth living for.

“I do.” The real Sam said, leaning against the doorframe. He could barely keep himself upright. “It was never a ghost which held this hotel. It’s a Tulpa.”

“What?” Dean gasped. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Read a book, Dean. This place is straight out of The Shining.”

Recognition flickered in Dean’s eyes. “Jerk, I read.”

Dean was remembering the film with the famous ‘ _Here’s Johnny_!’ line.

“Something is using my memories of The Shining to build this horror show. I didn’t realise until the topiary lion reminded me of the book. Those things scared the crap out of me.” Sam said, horrified. It was his fault Castiel was dead. “In the book, room 237 was where all kinds of bad shit went down. Figured we’d get answers here.”

“Are you telling me that everything that has happened here is because you read a book?” Dean cried.

“Yes.”

“Nerd… Why is it killing Cas?” Dean huffed.  

“Because Cas read the book too. He’s read every book ever written. Remember Metatron? He gave him a working knowledge of every book in history. With that kind of source, a Tulpa could become incredibly powerful. It’s killing Cas, so that it can use Cas.”

“Very good, Sam.” The other Sam said, a smug smile on his face. “Only, I’m not killing Cas. Cas is going to kill you.”

Dean sighed with relief when Castiel’s stunning blue eyes opened. He wasn’t breathing, but he didn’t need to breathe now that he had his grace back. Dean barely had a chance to smile at the angel and brush his fingers over his pale cheek before Cas grabbed him by the throat with his previously broken arm and squeezed.

Castiel’s eyes glowed an angelic blue.

“Cas…” Dean croaked, his eyes pleading.

Sam’s premonition ran through his mind. Smoke. Running feet. Broken bone. Demon blood. Dean’s neck, snapped. Then, room 237 with blood and blue material. It all made sense. The blue was the material of Castiel’s borrowed shirt, and he was about to snap Dean’s neck.

“Cas.” Sam pleaded, falling to his knees beside his brother. He didn’t dare move closer from fear of spooking Cas into action. “Fight it.”

Cas didn’t respond, his eyes glowed with angelic grace. He was using all his power to keep himself from killing Dean, but it wouldn’t last for long. Sam had to kill the threat at the source. He had to kill the Tulpa. He had to kill himself. Lucifer appeared in the doorway and began to chuckle.

“Oooh, this is going to be good. Sam on Sam.” He laughed, manifesting his half-eaten bowl of popcorn.

Sam reached into his back pocket and freed Ruby’s knife. To his horror, the other Sam completed the same action. They were mirror images of each other. Sam cursed the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to build the hotel from The Shining on top of a ley line. _Idiot_.

“We don’t have to do this.” The real Sam said warily. He wasn’t confident he could defeat himself while in his current, weakened state.

“Sure you do!” Lucifer laughed, crunching noisily away on his popcorn. “Get on with it.”

Grinding his teeth, the real Sam flung himself at his copy. The other hunter completed a similar action. They both managed to slice the others right forearm. Both hissed in pain. Nearby, Dean choked and struggled in the angel’s grip, his sweaty palms slipping on Castiel’s forearms.

Sam’s mind whirred. How was he supposed to defeat someone who knew all his moves and could mirror his every action?

Suddenly, Sam turned Ruby’s knife on himself. The other Sam looked supremely confused, then offered a toothy grin. He stalked towards Sam, his version of Ruby’s blade raised and ready. Only, he was unaware that his blade had flipped as well. They were face to face, eye to eye, when Sam took a vital step forwards. At the last second, he dropped Ruby’s blade and used his forward momentum to push the false blade into the other Sam’s chest.

The look of surprise was difficult to watch as Sam’s own features contorted with pain. His twin crumpled to the ground, his eyes full of betrayal, before he vanished in a puff of grey smoke. Nearby, Castiel released Dean, who rolled onto his side and began gasping for breath. Lucifer had vanished, the Mark of Cain had disappeared, Castiel was an angel again and Sam no longer felt the overwhelming desire to suck demon blood. He felt stronger than he had in days.

The three shared a look of surprise. It was over so quickly, they thought as they processed the last three days spent in the Overlook Hotel.

“Sam, I don’t think you should be allowed to read Stephen King anymore.” Castiel said with genuine concern. Dean coughed out a chuckle and thumped the angel on his shoulder.

“Agreed, Angel.” Dean said.

“Wait.” Cas said. Both Sam and Dean froze on their way out from room 237. “We can’t leave yet.”

“Why not?” Dean asked.

“Because this place is still cursed.”

“What are you talking about? Sam killed the Tulpa.”

“It was too powerful to be a Tulpa. The Overlook Hotel, straight out of a novel, built atop a ley line. It is no coincidence.” Casitel spat. “This was planned. Someone’s idea of a joke.”

“Ah, you got me.” A familiar nasal voice laughed from outside room 237. Castiel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He shot to his feet and ran into the hallway where he came face-to-face with the Archangel Gabriel. His eyes widened with surprise, then thinned dangerously.

Castiel punched Gabriel in the nose, his fist colliding with a sickening crunch.

“Ouch, little brother!” Gabriel cried, his hands raised defensively. He took a step closer, pinned Castiel’s arms to his side, and whispered, “You should be thanking me.”

“I almost killed Dean.” Cas growled, struggling to free himself from the archangel’s powerful grip.

“You almost did something else with Dean, too.” Gabriel said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He stepped back and turned his attention to the Winchester brothers. “Thanks for playing boys. Tune in next week when I throw you idiots into Pride and Prejudice.”

Dean shuddered. He couldn’t think of anything more horrifying. “So, you did all this?”

“Bingo. The Tulpa was real, I just encouraged a few critical plot points. I do love Stephen King.”

“How are you alive?” Sam asked.

“Spoilers.” Gabriel laughed. “Don’t worry. This place is nothing but a hotel without my influence. I’ve moved the ley line back where it belongs, in the west of the North Atlantic Ocean.”

“You moved the Bermuda Triangle.” Castiel shook his head in disbelief. Gabriel began to laugh uproariously.

“You can do that?” Sam said, impressed.

“It’s easy, Sammy-boy.” Gabriel said, fluffing with pride. Cas rolled his eyes. “Now, I’ll be off. More fun to be had with other hapless hunters. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you boys. I’ll be back.” In an instant, Gabriel disappeared. Outside, the whistling of the snowstorm diminished, then vanished completely.

“Take your time.” Dean muttered, his throat ached where Cas had strangled him. He knew he would lose his voice in a few hours due to inflammation. They never seemed to mention that in movies.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas said, placing his hand firmly over the raised hand-print he had left after dragging Dean from Hell. A rush of electricity and poorly-timed arousal ran through Dean’s body. Cas sensed the tension in Dean’s body, and his pupils dilated as his gaze rested on Dean’s full lips.

“Forget it. Let’s get out of here.” Dean felt awkward now that the threat had vanished. The events of the past few days caught up with his strained mind. He and Cas had shared something intimate, and Dean didn’t know how he was supposed to behave now. All he knew was that he most definitely wanted a repeat performance. Soon.

***

Gabriel snickered as he observed the Winchesters and Castiel pack their things and abandon the Overlook Hotel. The three climbed into the Impala and disappeared down the winding driveway. He couldn’t remember a time when he had enjoyed messing with people more. He was certain it wouldn’t be long before he returned to give the Winchesters and Castiel another lesson on the importance of literary masterpieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for getting this far. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> This is the official end of the story - but there is the possibility of a sequel (or perhaps a one shot with Dean and Cas after the events of the Overlook Hotel). 
> 
> Many thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos. 
> 
> I love feedback so don't hold back if you have something to say. ;)


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